by Sharon Green
"And this illness is your fault as well, you trollop," he murmured with all the spite he felt, looking down at the girl who lay senseless in the blankets beyond his folded legs. "If that awful liquid wasn't necessary to keep you under control, I would not have needed to breathe those traces of it. I've been nauseated ever since, and you'll pay for that, too."
Which he would be sure to see to. Without knowing what His Holiness intended for the girl he hadn't dared do as he liked with her, but he'd still been able to return some measure of the humiliation she had given to him. He had been sent to her as her father's messenger, and although it had been his intention to lead her into a trap where she might be taken, she hadn't known that. In the spirit of generosity he had attempted to correct her in regard to the unsuitability of the clothing she wore, and she had held him up to ridicule before those insufferably arrogant Fighters assigned as her bodyguard. They had laughed at him, at him, and he had had no recourse then but to accept the ridicule.
"But I've made up for that, haven't I, girl?" he whispered, reaching over to the blanket covering her, just as he had any number of times in the past two days. "You made a joke of nakedness, but how amusing would you find it now?"
Removal of the blanket bared the girl's body again, offering sight of it to him as well as inviting his touch. Inviting, oh, yes indeed, it was inviting, an unexpected smoothness that had been hidden beneath harsh leathers. His palm slid up from the flatness of her belly to the mound of her well-formed breast, and the sensations brought to him by the kneading of his fingers were almost enough to overcome his illness. How soft that breast was to begin with, and how quickly the large nipple hardened under his hand. This time she moaned as well, moving slightly as though in protest, and he smiled as he continued to squeeze and caress her.
"You dislike being touched so, my lady?" he whispered, the dimness of the wagon interior no barrier to his sight of her. "What a pity you find yourself displeased, but consider the future before voicing that displeasure. His Holiness will have no use for your body, but his gratitude for my valuable assistance in bringing you to him will surely allow me what he has no interest in. You will be fully awake when you serve me, girl, and only then will you learn the true meaning of displeasure. By that time, however, the lesson will do you no good at all."
The girl moaned again and moved about under his touch, as helpless to refuse it as he had been to refuse her insult. It gave him great pleasure to finally see a response in her, but that very response meant she would soon need that liquid put to her face again. As soon as she was given water to drink and thin cereal to swallow. Eating and drinking and then that liquid. Merrol knew he should summon one of the others to see to her, but the illness was rising in him quickly again, too quickly to consider anything but himself. He was going to upchuck, he knew he was, and he began scrambling toward the front of the wagon, intent on nothing but bending over the side of the seat.
* * *
I couldn't remember ever having been in a river of confusion before, and didn't even know how long I'd been in it this time. I was lying on something that seemed to be moving, always moving, and harder than what I considered comfortable. My head hurt a little, and I felt dizzy when I could feel anything at all, and the smell all around me was almost completely overpowering. Almost completely. Almost. Every once in a while it faded, and when it came back it wasn't as strong as it had been. The confusion persisted, but the smell wasn't as strong.
And then came another fading time, when I felt a blanket under my back, and light came from somewhere to hurt my eyes, and then there were fingers touching my flesh. Pudgy, repulsive fingers, I thought, trying to remember, disliking the childish groping of the touch. It's not the first time, I thought, moving around on that blanket, not the first time he's dared to touch me. Dared? Why was it a matter of dared? I usually enjoyed the touch of men, so why didn't I like this one?
I moved around again, hearing whispered words I didn't understand, but suddenly my heart was beating faster. I had to get out of there, I remembered thinking that before too, but couldn't quite remember why. I could barely move and felt really odd, but the urge to leave was becoming overwhelming. I struggled to open my eyes, had to blink back blurriness when I did, then suddenly found myself sitting up. That hadn't been hard at all, the sitting part, not as hard as I'd thought it would be, but I had to crawl toward the light on hands and knees because of the blurriness. Light meant out so that's where I had to go, even if it was harder than sitting up and crawling.
And it was harder. When I reached the place the light was coming from, I found wood and heavy cloth in my way. It's a wagon, I thought, the blurriness and confusion clearing just a little, but still leaving me feeling as though I moved through a dream. I could see a road disappearing behind the dream wagon I rode in, and knew I needed to be down on that road. I had to climb down from the back of that wagon, down to the road, down to where it was moving, down away from where I was -
Hitting hard, dusty ground seemed to wake me up, the pain bringing back awareness instead of taking it away. I lay there unmoving for a moment, a receding creak of wheels in my ears, believing I was back in mounted weapons training and had just done something stupid, and then I remembered I was escaping. Escaping from what I still couldn't recall, but I knew I hadn't intended to simply fall out of the wagon. I groaned as I stirred on the dusty road, trying to tell myself that out was out no matter how I'd gotten that way, but there seemed to be something wrong with that line of logic. I couldn't quite figure out what, but there was definitely something wrong with it.
Wrong or not, the lowering sun was in my slitted eyes, and years of training had taught me that the first thing you did after falling down was get up again. As soon as possible. I turned to my belly then pushed up to my hands and knees, knelt like that for a moment with my head hanging, then somehow managed to get to my feet. I felt horribly weak and light-headed, as though I'd been sick or wounded, but I couldn't remember being either.
I started walking on the dusty road, blinked when I saw a wagon far ahead disappearing from sight around a bend, only then realizing I was walking the wrong way. It was something of an effort to turn around without failing down again, and once I'd done it I felt terribly proud. I'd escaped from wherever it was I had to escape from, and now I was walking the road I'd earlier only been looking at. I was proud of what I'd accomplished, wasn't hurting much at all, and was delightfully comfortable even in the warmth of the afternoon. My leathers had never felt so cool and comfortable, and I began humming to the birds in the trees all around as I walked.
Time receded behind steps and humming, steps and no humming, steps with a thickening fog rolling in. I thought it was strange that a fog should appear right in the middle of a sunny afternoon, but the fog didn't seem to mind at all. It just rolled right along at me, then over me, then nothing.
* * *
Kylin was moving along the road at a good clip, his sword loose in its scabbard, a dark eagerness in his light eyes. After all that time of following he was convinced the wagon leaving the odd track was no decoy, and he knew he wasn't more than an hour or so behind it. If they hadn't changed horses just before dawn of the first day he would have had them sooner - or if he hadn't had to rest his own mount the night before. He himself had slept because he'd had nothing better to do, not because he was so spent he was close to exhaustion. As a King's Fighter he'd more than once spent day after night after day in the saddle, riding mounts in relays, staying awake by sheer determination, and then fighting at the end of it. Hopefully he would soon be in another fight, one he'd been anticipating for the last few hours.
His mind had turned so deeply into the problem of how he might get to the girl before the men with her knew he was there, that his eyes registered movement on the road ahead before he was aware of it. He came out of plotting and planning to blink at the distant sight, wondering what it could possibly be. Whatever it was it was mostly light-colored, like a slim bear with its pelt
gone. Walked upright like a bear did at times, but didn't seem as steady on its feet. It was coming right down the middle of the road, too, just as though -
Kylin pulled back on his reins so hard his mount nearly reared in protest, but nevertheless slowed its pace to the walk its rider was insisting on. Its numb, stunned rider. Kylin had seen more things than most men of his years, but never, ever, had he seen anything to match the sight in front of him now. He walked his horse at it slowly, distantly realizing that his speculation on what lay under Sofaltis's leathers had been very nearly on the mark, so bemused that he didn't even think to look around for the wagon and its men.
She was free, she was all but strolling along, and she seemed completely unhurt. Not to mention the fact that she was also stark naked.
Kylin grinned wide at the sight, belatedly remembering to glance around but still keeping most of his attention on the girl. The surprising part was that she was up and moving at all that soon, much sooner than he would have expected her to be. And obviously sooner than her captors had expected. He knew he'd better get her off the road until she was back to herself again, and that fairly quickly. If the enemy showed up and there was a fight, in her condition she'd probably try to get into it - bare-handed.
He began chuckling as he pulled his horse to a halt and dismounted, reaching behind the saddle for one of the blankets rolled there. He couldn't wait to see the girl's face when she discovered she'd been wandering along the road, happy as a cloud, without a stitch on. He knew any number of Blades - mostly male, of course, but the principle should be the same - and if any of them had been turned loose naked to trip gaily through the countryside, they would be shouting for blood five minutes after they came out of it. He would have to watch her carefully, sit on her if necessary -
He turned back with the blanket toward the figure that had been strolling toward him, and discovered the figure was no longer strolling. The girl was now sitting on the road about fifteen feet away, waving one arm as though trying to chase something away from her. The motion wasn't violent, just faintly annoyed, and even as he watched she gave up on it with a shrug and lay down on the road as if it were her bed. Even from where he stood Kylin could tell she was out again, so he sighed and took the reins of his mount to lead it closer.
"Well, old horse, it looks like we won't be having her company for a while after all," he said, ready to laugh at himself for feeling disappointed. "Once she wakes up again she ought to be completely out of it, and then we'll be able to talk to her. Talk to her. I hadn't thought of that. Evon broil it, what are we going to tell her?"
His horse snorted and shook its head, leaving that entirely up to him, much too smart to get involved in a mess like that. What had Traixe said to him, about how quickly she would refuse to marry Kylin if she wasn't convinced she was keeping her father from dishonor? He knew it was true, even though he wished it wasn't, and it looked as if he was going to have to go right back to the part he had so happily abandoned.
"Even though it's going to be damned hard explaining what I'm doing here," he muttered, going to one knee beside the girl to spread the blanket he would wrap her in. "If I'd changed clothes before leaving the castle I'd have to tell you the truth, but I didn't think it was important enough to stop for."
She stirred very faintly when he put his arms under her to lift her onto the blanket, and once he put her down on it he couldn't keep his hand from going to smooth her hair.
"I'll have to speak to the King about passing a law against women like you," he murmured, looking down at her unresponsive face. "You're not beautiful enough to make me feel like this, so it simply isn't fair. Do you realize I came away from the castle in such a rush, that I never got that woman Traixe promised me?"
The girl lay unmoving on the blanket, aware of nothing, but Kylin wasn't quite that fortunate. He was very aware of what was so close to him, and the situation had become a good deal more desperate. The woman was his and he was determined to have her, but how in hell was he supposed to accomplish that while staying in character? He would have to think of something, would think of something by the time she woke, or that would be the end of the role. Not even for a moment did he consider that he might have her right here, at the side of the road behind some bushes, with none, including her, being the wiser. He insisted on his women being alive, and at the moment she wasn't.
"We'll find a cave like the one I slept in last night, and then we'll work on the problem," he told the girl as he covered her with the blanket, then began to gather her up. "You're going to enjoy yourself with me and then you're going to marry me, and we'll both be very happy. You have my word on that, my girl, and I've never yet broken my word."
Her head rolled against his shoulder as he stood with her in his arms, and he smilingly took that as complete agreement.
Chapter 7
I awoke to a dim light feeling fairly comfortable, wondering why I was expecting to be uncomfortable. It was a strange thing to be expecting, as strange as thinking the air would smell odd, even though it didn't. And nothing was moving, even though I felt it ought to be moving. I put a hand to my head as I shifted around in the blankets, knowing at least that was right, trying to figure out -
Blankets? Right? How could blankets be right? What in broiling hell had hap -
I sat up so fast everything around me swung dizzily, finally remembering what had happened on the battlements. I'd been taken, Evon broil it, like the greenest recruit, and they'd used whatever had knocked me out to keep me under. I could remember bits and snatches of almost waking up, and a dream about escaping, but where the hell was I right now? It looked an awful lot like a cave, with a very low fire near its mouth and a stable lamp between me and the fire. Beyond the cave mouth was darkness, an after-sundown darkness, with no sign of that wagon. Had I escaped after all, or was this simply a rest stop for the night? I had to find out fast, before -
"Oh, excellent, you've finally awakened!" a voice said from the cave mouth I was no longer looking at, the last voice in the whole, entire world I'd expected to hear. "You must be absolutely famished, my dear, I know I would be. I'll have the fire built up in a moment, and then I'll re-warm the rabbit left from my own meal."
I turned my head very slowly, trying to convince myself that if anything was a dream that had to be it, but it didn't work. The Flower was there at the cave mouth, having come in with a heavy load of wood, and was already turning toward the fire. How he could possibly be here I couldn't imagine, but I was certainly going to find out.
"Where in Evon's steel-lined hells did you come from?" I demanded, aware of the outrage in my voice but helpless to do anything about it. "And where could you possibly have gotten rabbit for a meal? Did a family of them come up to you and drop dead at your feet?"
"Certainly not," he answered in injured tones, keeping his head down as he began feeding the fire. "As a boy I was as well-schooled in rabbit-catching and such as my brothers, even though I've always found the doing rather repellent. Now, however, the repellent has become the necessary, therefore do we have rabbit for supper."
"Old rabbit, would be my guess," I muttered, still more than annoyed, then raised my voice again. "Okay, you've explained the meal. Now how about explaining what you're doing here."
"That, my lady, should be obvious," he said, his tone also suggesting how obvious the answer was. "You are, after all, my lady, are you not? Was I to allow scoundrels to run off with you and do nothing about it? When we discovered what seemed to be your trail, I naturally followed at once. The effort was somewhat rigorous for a civilized man like myself, but it allowed me to be there when I was most needed."
"When you were most needed," I echoed, only then noticing how well-worn his finery was. "Are you trying to tell me you rescued me? You?"
"Well-ah-not quite that," he admitted, glancing up at me as he reached for a leather-wrapped something I hadn't seen on the far side of the fire. "I was on the road, still riding in pursuit, when I suddenly found that part
of what I was in pursuit of was coming toward me from the very direction in which I rode. Apparently you had somehow managed to escape your captors, and were walking back the way you had been brought."
"Walking back," I repeated, the phrase triggering memories I'd thought were from a dream. "I seem to remember walking after … getting out of a wagon, and it was a very pleasant walk. I think I was humming."
"You may well have been," he agreed, using a branch to put what came out of the leather pack into the building fire. "I had the distinct impression you weren't aware of me, however, and before I could reach you you had stretched out right there on the road to sleep. I wrapped you in a blanket as quickly as I could, then found this cave for us."
"Wrapped me in a blanket," I said, distantly wondering if I were fated to start every speech from now on by repeating what had been said to me. That might have been my first concern - if I didn't have another to push it out of place. "Why - why did you have to wrap me in a blanket?"
"For a rather … distressing reason," he said, keeping his eyes on the rabbit rather than raising them to me. "I do hope you will forgive me for being unable to put this more delicately, my lady, but you were rather extensively unclad, and under the circumstances I thought it best -"
He broke off at the sound I voiced, a sound that even I couldn't completely interpret. I suppose part of it was some sort of laughter, due to the fact that I'd almost repeated the phrase, "extensively unclad." Only a Flower would apologize for not being able to put it more delicately, and I was trying to see if there was a more delicate way of saying I was stark naked. Because that's what I must have been.